s that his narrow and desultory reading had inspired him with the
wish to see the faces of three or four writers, Coleridge, Wordsworth,
Landor, De Quincey, Carlyle. His accounts of his interviews with
these distinguished persons are too condensed to admit of further
abbreviation. Goethe and Scott, whom he would have liked to look upon,
were dead; Wellington he saw at Westminster Abbey, at the funeral of
Wilberforce. His impressions of each of the distinguished persons whom
he visited should be looked at in the light of the general remark which,
follows:--

"The young scholar fancies it happiness enough to live with people
who can give an inside to the world; without reflecting that
they are prisoners, too, of their own thought, and cannot apply
themselves to yours. The conditions of literary success are almost
destructive of the best social power, as they do not have that
frolic liberty which only can encounter a companion on the best
terms. It is probable you left some obscure comrade at a tavern, or
in the farms, with right mother-wit, and equality to life, when you
crossed sea and land to play bo-peep with celebrated scribes. I
have, however, found writers superior to their books, and I cling to
my first belief that a strong head will dispose fast enough of these
impediments, and give one the satisfaction of reality, the sense of
having been met, and a larger horizon."

Emerson carried a letter of introduction to a gentleman in Edinburgh,
who, being unable to pay him all the desired attention, handed him over
to Mr. Alexander Ireland, who has given a most interesting account of
him as he appeared during that first visit to Europe. Mr. Ireland's
presentation of Emerson as he heard him in the Scotch pulpit shows
that he was not less impressive and attractive before an audience of
strangers than among his own countrymen and countrywomen:--

"On Sunday, the 18th of August, 1833, I heard him deliver a discourse in
the Unitarian Chapel, Young Street, Edinburgh, and I remember distinctly
the effect which it produced on his hearers. It is almost needless to
say that nothing like it had ever been heard by them before, and many of
them did not know what to make of it. The originality of his thoughts,
the consummate beauty of the language in which they were clothed, the
calm dignity of his bearing, the absence of all oratorical effort, and
the singular directness and simpli